


City of Roses and Ruins

by malheureux



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, captain america: the winter soldier - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anachronistic, Cognitive Dissonance, Dissociation, Fight Club AU, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-12 20:22:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2123451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malheureux/pseuds/malheureux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winter Soldier has a shadow and his name is Bucky. </p><p>Or the Fight Club AU no one asked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As the tags state this is anachronistic in nature similar to Chuck Palahniuk's Fight Club and like Fight Club follows similar literary techniques and plot progressions. There are several places where dialogue is borrowed and bent to serve the story and characters, none of this was done in malice nor am I profiting off this in any way, shape, or form. 
> 
> Enjoy!

A short balding man with glasses gives you new life as damn near indestructible, weeks later his protege straps you down, shaves your head, muttering along as he does so. “The first step for new life,” he says, “is you have to die.” 

With vibranium alloy fingers tucked neatly around the column of your throat you decide to keep your mouth shut. 

“To die is to rot in the fucking ground,” Bucky tells you this.

Bucky and you are on the fourth floor of the final SHIELD/HYDRA building on your world tour of redemption. The shipping yard in Visby’s Harbour serves as front for a SHIELD safe house, the two off you don’t care. SHIELD, HYDRA are synonymous in your book and must be taken out.

The two of you would pick off organization by organization, working your ways through the CIA to MI6 to SAPO, if you had more time but your morality eats away at your resolve like rust to the hull of a ship. 

“Do you know James Buchanan Barnes?” 

You do, of course you do, you are James Buchanan Barnes, but you merely say, Who?

He doesn't like that answer. 

Nine floors underground a kitchen timer counts down, inching thirty-six blocks of C-4 to oblivion. 

Your breath is shallow as his fingers tighten and you smile, blood leaking between your teeth staining your Cheshire cat smile as you stare into eyes so familiar they might as well be your own (ha). 

Ten minutes. 

“Shut the fuck up” 

We’re going to die in ten minutes. 

“I don’t want to die” 

The only step left is death. 

“Why do you want to die?” 

Nine minutes. 

“Why. Do. You. Want. To. Die?” 

Why do you want to live?

His grip loosens and you slump to the ground. 

Eight minutes until detonation and America is on the horizon.


	2. Chapter 2

October 31, 1984 

Your brother in arms is telling you about a kid he used to repeatedly save from bullies, tyrants, aggressors in the school yard. 

“He was this scrawny little kid, maybe 5’5 and not even 100 pounds,” 

You nod. He speaks easily in English and you respond back in Russian to keep him on mission. He tells you to lighten up and elbows you in the side. 

“You’re always so serious, whens the last time you had any fun?” 

You think there was a carnival? a celebration of sorts? But there were fireworks and a spot behind your forehead begins to itch and you change the subject. 

Tell me about Steve

“Ya know, when I first met the kid I didn’t even know his name. I didn’t want to know his name. He wasn’t my problem and so I didn’t care but I knew he’d end up dead if I didn’t cut in.” 

Bucky tells you about finding Steve episodically around the place he grew up. From the way he speaks English you know he’s from America, the enemy, and the way he talks about this Steve you’re sure he’s dead. He wistful and calculated in his tense usage. 

You’re on the roof of a house on the edge of a shantytown in India. You’ve turned down the sound of the bustling streets below so Bucky’s voice is the only voice you hear, you’ve blurred the colors of night so that your target will be the only target you see. You know her face and the faces of those who will be surrounding her. 

Bucky is by your side, he’s relaxed save for the rifle in his hand.

You’re from America are you not? 

“Yeah from New York” 

How did you end up here, you silently add, with me. 

“I found a new purpose” 

Steve paints the rest of your mission in alternating reds and blues. You stare at the man beside you and you envy his Steve Rogers for seeing him as a different person, in a different life. You very much doubt the man next to you would be capable of saving when you two specialize in ending. 

“Target spotted” 

Fall back. She’s mine. 

Bucky nods and you stalk this too young nation’s ruler into a crowd of people. You follow her through alleys and into, presumably, her residence. Her bodyguards are incapable and you wonder why people, rulers, presidents don’t have better security. How they walk out in the open among their own people almost asking their opposition to slit their throats? Do they do it out of trust? Arrogance? Hubris? 

Her bodyguards are armed but not ready when you throw yourself around a corner, knife out and puncture her stomach, chest, stomach, chest. Her guards are stunned by your sudden appearance and her favorite guard has removed his shirt to hold at her chest and stomach to try and staunch the bleeding. They scream at you and the larger of the two screams at you to run away that he’ll handle it. 

You forget that you have people all around the world to help with these things. 

You turn in time to see him lunge at the other guard. 

You return to the rooftop to pack up and head back to the rendezvous point and Bucky’s smiling easy. 

“So I was saying, he wasn’t one to back down from a fight and I think I admired him for that. So I kept stepping in.” 

It’s easy with him. He doesn’t look at your bloody hands and you let him talk about Steve Rogers while you pack up. 

“The tips’ missing” he says motioning towards the knife you were using. 

Must have hit her sternum. 

His hands still a moment before continuing, “must’ve” 

You’re sentimental, you tell him, it’s going to get you killed. 

“I know.” 

You wonder how his Steve Rogers would feel if he knew what kind of company Bucky kept now.


End file.
